The Cost of Survival
by AnikaandAj
Summary: "I figured I either have two options. Shoot you before you have the chance to run or let you go and wake up to find all of my stuff gone. So I chose the third option." Her eyebrows rose, her curiosity getting the better of her, "And that would be?" "Doing a favor to the human race by not letting a pretty girl starve to death, of course." Max and Fang meet in the zombie apocalypse.
1. Not Alone

Where were you the day everything went to hell?

It used to be a common question to hear. Every survivor was interested in hearing stories of the past. Thinking of the past brought peace.

Max hadn't heard the question in a long time; so long that she almost missed the repetition of her answer. Maybe it was because it had been so long since she had seen a regular person. A living one, that is.

Speaking of that…

Max was sprawled out on the ground, her hair framing the forest earth as a zombie was hovering over her, preparing for the kill. She hadn't come close to death in a while. She had missed it. Snarling, she kicked her feet out, landing squarely on the zombie's chest and keeping it at bay. It flailed it's arms, mindlessly attempting to claw at her and tear into her ripe flesh. The longer she resisted, the harder the zombie fought for its meal, struggling so hard that, for a moment, Max worried her foot would plunge into its decaying chest.

Her hands moved across the deadening grass and twigs in a flurry, as if she were making snow angels and not just scrambling to stay alive. She needed her weapon and she needed it fast.

_Come on_, she mentally screamed, her mind beginning to verge on what could only be described as panic. His hands were getting awfully close.

Using the sensitive skin of her palm, the physically young girl felt the ground, desperate to find her lucky stake.

Leaves? _No. _Twigs? _No._ Leftover arm? _Oops, definitely not._ More leaves, more dirt, _bingo_.

At the last possible second, Max felt her palm enclose around the cylindrical base of the smooth wood, just as the zombie broke free of its restraint. It tumbled after her, falling onto the girl's writhing form and locking it's large dead eyes on the tender flesh of her neck before…_crunch_.

An explosion of blood oozed all over Max, just after she had managed to impale the starving corpse, milliseconds away from her death.

Today she had survived. She wasn't sure whether that was a good or bad thing.

In a simpler time, just before the apocalypse hit, Max had been the weird girl at her college. She was only in her freshman year, but had been instantly cast away from her peers, forced to live in isolation. She was fine with that. She preferred to be alone.

That is, until there was nobody around to flaunt off her loneliness to. Everybody that had turned Max away and labeled her as a freak were dead. She supposed that she should at least be a little sad, but the irony was too overwhelming for her to think much about those who now either walked the earth as soulless monsters or lay scattered in pieces as the remnants of a meal. Max had survived. That was more than what could be said for most people.

In the beginning, survival was all that mattered. Four hundred days later after the living population had been reduced to an endangered species, she began to wonder what the point of surviving was if nobody cared. Sure, she was a big winner for being strong and clever enough to outwit the brainless corpses. But who cared? The zombies sure didn't. She was only one small meal and, to be honest, there wasn't much meat on her at that point to devour.

Her entire life, Max had proven herself. She had proven that she could beat those who doubted her. In the apocalypse, there weren't many people left to gloat to. Unless she wanted to try striking up a conversation with one of the zombies loitering around.

Max wrinkled her nose as she pushed the corpse off of her, doing all she could not to whimper at all of the leftover blood that had gushed onto her and continued to leak down her arms.

While she had never been a girly girl, the gory display made her want to hurl.

As soon as she made her way over to a nearby bush, that was exactly what she did.

Upon finishing emptying her stomach of the scarce food she had scavenged, Max wanted—no, needed—food. Pronto. In this world, she couldn't afford to pass out from hunger or dehydration. Judging by the dampness of the earth as Max continued to move west, a source of water couldn't be too far off. She would get water and wash off the thick and sticky crimson from her pores to avoid getting infected herself. Then, Max decided, she could search for food.

Or die in the process.

* * *

It had been about two days, give or take, and she still hadn't found any sustenance. She had stumbled precariously in the dense forest, probably resembling a zombie herself as her stomach begged for food. Along with her growing hunger, Max could feel despair growing within. By the second day, she truly believed that she would die. Not by a fight to the death, not in a blaze of glory, but because she couldn't find any freaking berries to eat.

That is, until by some unforeseen luck, she stumbled upon a camp. Warily, she crouched down behind a bush, low enough that her blonde snarls wouldn't give herself away. She, Maximum Ride, had stumbled upon a human. Like, the living and breathing kind. Her first reaction was to reveal herself and beg for a few sweet morsels of food, maybe striking up a conversation if she was lucky.

What she ended up doing instead was cowering behind a three foot tall shrub, scanning the campsite for movement. She would wait until the perfect moment to raid the camp and steal all she could carry.

Once upon a time, Max never would have resorted to something as low and underhanded as stealing. Then the apocalypse came and the world went to shit.

Max narrowed her eyes, watching the roaring campfire crackle, twisting and dancing towards the sky in streamers of orange and red. There were a few logs conveniently located around the fire and a single beige tent, large enough for two or three was set up a few feet away, just far enough to avoid catching on fire. Briefly, she noticed there were many patches on the tent that had to be repaired crudely with duct tape, but it was otherwise in perfect condition. There was one set of footprints at the campsite, but they seemed to go back and forth, like the owner paced often.

"Well it's not everyday you see a pretty girl in a bush," A deep voice remarked behind her. _Oh shit_, Max thought numbly, wincing.

She spun around, her hair whipping behind her, as she reached for her stake. Where she would usually find it attached to her belt, her hand only grasped an empty pocket of air. Where the hell—

"Looking for this?" The same cocky voice mocked her from above. Growling, she looked up at the man she had been planning on stealing from.

He wasn't nearly as lean as she had figured a survivor would be, especially on his own. He was well muscled with olive toned skin, which he mostly covered up with a black hoodie, surprisingly not at all stained with blood. His hoodie was the same shade as his raven black hair, but not as dark as his eyes, a cool black the shade of slate. _I'm sensing a _pattern, Max noted mentally, finding humor in all of the black. He was attractive, Max had to give him that. But even after so long of being alone, that didn't matter. Why? Because he had _her_ stake.

"Give me back Mr. Pointy!" She snarled, lunging for the sharpened wood. He dodged her attack, an amused smirk resting on his lips as he evaded her clumsy footwork, as gracefully as a swan.

"Mr. Pointy? Seriously?" He sneered, stepping backward as she clawed at the hand that held her weapon carelessly.

"Listen twinkletoes, it's my weapon and I want it back." She grunted, jumping at him once more. And missing.

"A weapon? That's just sad. It's a stick." He spun the stick like a baton, obviously not seeing the danger in the slab of wood.

"No, it's a weapon. It's saved my life against the zombies more times than I can count. Now hand it over, or else." She held out her hand, glaring fiercely at the taller man. He glanced at her dirt stained palm thoughtfully, before laughing in her face. How someone that had lasted so long in the apocalypse could laugh with a total stranger was beyond her.

"I thought stakes were for vampires."

"It's sharp and pointy. It works for zombies too." Not willing to waste her energy on chasing him, Max resorted to crossing her arms like a child and staring him down. She was beginning to miss being alone. Why couldn't this guy have just let her raid his camp in peace? How come he just _had_ to find her and annoy her to death? Selfish, that's what he was.

"Okay then, slayer. How would you like some dinner? I just went hunting and got some rabbit." He offered, tossing her stake to the ground. It landed inches from her toes, the sharp end piercing the soil. Max looked down at her stake, then back up to the confusing enigma of a stranger.

"You do know I was just about to steal your supplies, right?" She asked dumbly, not willing to believe what she was hearing.

"Yup," He replied, popping the _p_, "I figured I either have two options. Shoot you before you have the chance to run or let you go and wake up to find all of my stuff gone. So I chose the third option."

Her eyebrows rose, her curiosity getting the better of her, "And that would be?"

"Doing a favor to the human race by not letting a pretty girl starve to death, of course."

"Do you always eat like this or have you just been starving longer than I thought?" The man, who she had discovered was two years older than herself, remarked. She paused from her gorging, probably eating as messy as the zombies, to bat her chocolaty brown eyes innocently.

"Excuse me for enjoying my first time eating anything but berries since the outbreak." She retorted, wiping her messy palms on her jeans. His expression changed to one of horror.

"How have you been eating just berries?" He spluttered. Max was sure if he had been drinking water he would have spit it out.

"Simple. I can hunt, but I can't cook worth a damn. Back in college I had to ask for help just to make Ramen," She shrugged, feeling slightly more relaxed with the crackling flames basking her in a cocoon of warmth, shielding her from the night's icy chill.

"College? Is that where you were when all of this went down?" He questioned, letting a genuine smile ghost his lips at her nostalgic expression. It had been too long since she'd been asked that question.

"Yeah," She answered, her eyes traveling to meet her shoes as memories bubbled to the surface that had long since been buried. "I was in my boyfriend's apartment the night it happened. My boyfriend, Dylan, had just proposed the night before and I turned him down. When I heard a knock at the door, I assumed it was him. It was, but it wasn't. He was a zombie, the first I had ever seen. When he attacked me, I freaked and thought he was just angry about the rejection. I somehow managed to escape and ran. It wasn't until I ran into more zombies that I figured out what was going on."

"You didn't kill him?" He asked with his gaze locked solely on me.

"I did, but not then. It wasn't until two days later that I had to kill him after he had made a meal of my brother, Iggy." Max clutched her knees closer to her chest, finding it suddenly much harder to breathe.

The stranger's eyes darkened, empathetic for her loss and the losses he had undoubtedly had as well. He was smart enough not to say sorry. He knew as well as she did that an apology from a stranger was the day they admitted things were only going to get worse.

"My name's Fang." He said simply, extending his arm for her to shake. She looked at it suspiciously.

"I want to trust you. I've found that when a person puts a face to a name, it becomes much harder to kill them," He elaborated, his arm still outstretched.

She smirked, his logic resonating with her, even with her paranoia induced sense of unease. Could she really trust him?

"Fang? How'd you get stuck with that one?" She snickered, watching as he only rolled his eyes.

"If you must know, one of the older guys in my group, Jeb, gave it to me a while back. Thought it was fitting after I cut a lame brain's jaw out," Max tried not to laugh at the term _lame brain_ as he jeered, "Besides, at least I _have_ a name."

"I have a name!" She defended. "If you must know, it's Max. Maximum Ride."

"Well, _Maximum Ride_, its nice to meet you. I'm grateful you didn't rob me."

Amused, she shook his hand.

"It's a pleasure, Fang. It's a shame we won't be seeing each other much longer, it's been nice talking to someone." She sighed, folding her hands once more as she observed Fang's surprised expression.

"Oh, and what's keeping you from staying? We make a hell of a team." He argued, leaning in closer to her, the fire's illumination making his dark eyes appear to be glowing.

"I'm more of a loner. It got tiring having to watch people getting picked off one by one." She replied grimly.

"But what if we didn't die? Two is stronger than one." He argued, his eyes roaming over her form for a signal of her giving in. He wanted her to stay, _that_ Max could tell.

"Fang, you're a nice guy, but I'm surprised you've survived this long. There are no _but's_ when the world is hell on earth. Everything ends in death. Every choice and decision has the possibility of death." Max chastised, not even caring how bitter she sounded.

"It was like that before the apocalypse. Life has always been like that. There's always been the chance of dying, but nobody seems to pay much attention until a corpse tries to eat them." He challenged, daring Max to argue.

"Well frankly, the mortality rate has risen quite a bit since corpses started eating people," She stated matter of factly. "We're all going to die, it doesn't matter whether we're together or alone."

Max was stubborn. She refused to let Fang win an argument against her. She was afraid of what would happen if he did.

"Better than dying alone." He shot back, still challenging her, just like he had from the moment they met. This time, Max had no witty comeback. Her vault of endless sarcasm had been drained, now replaced with the thought of Fang's offer. She could stay. Maybe she could even learn what it felt like to be alive again.

But could she trust him?

After ten minutes of silence, the dark haired man stood up from the log and made his way toward the oversized tent.

"I'm going to get some sleep. You should too. I don't suppose you want to join me?" He wiggled his eyebrows at her suggestively. Her scoff served as her answer. He shrugged, obviously having no regrets.

Turning back, he said, "Good night."

"Sleep well," She returned.

"We'll probably be dead by morning," They finished in unison. The chant had become a universal language to all the survivors.

He nodded, pleased, before tossing her a sleeping bag.

"How do you know I won't leave?" She asked suspiciously. After always being an outcast, ostracized in a population of the living, his openness towards the blonde was a foreign concept.

"You won't. You may have survived this world by closing yourself off, but I've found that the only way to survive is to never stop believing in a person's humanity. The day I refuse to trust will be the day they win." He spoke with such conviction that Max almost felt ashamed of herself for doubting him. Almost.

"And what if I left?" She challenged.

"Oh, I'd find you." He spoke with a confidence Max had only been able to fake. With that answer, Fang retreated inside of his tent, leaving Max alone with her thoughts, comforted by the lullaby of the crackling fire.

Maybe she could find a home here. Maybe she could be happy to be alive once again. Maybe, just maybe, she could stop running.

When Fang woke up the next morning, he wasn't fooled by the ethereal glow of sunrise. He knew something was wrong the second he woke up, but he didn't know what.

Upon exiting the tent, his questions were answered. The only sign Max had been there at all was the stake, Mr. Pointy, impaled into the earth inches away from his toes and the lingering whisper of her betrayal as he saw his supplies ransacked through and stolen.

He could have been angry, resorting to frustration over trusting the thief. He could have unleashed his fury onto the barren world and destroyed whatever he could spare. He could have sunken to the ground, finally losing his hope in humanity.

Fang didn't do any of those. He merely smiled, leaning down to pick up her weapon of choice.

He wasn't worried; he knew this wasn't the end of their journey.

He would find her.

* * *

**Aj: Sure, the ending was a bit angsty, but a zombie apocalypse isn't all smiles and rainbows. Besides, who says this is the end...**

**Let me know what you guys think! ;)**

**-Aj.**


	2. Humans and Monsters

**Aj: Let me just start off by saying that I had intended this zombie story to be a one-shot. Maybe a two parter. But then you guys just had to go and be awesome reviewing minions and I just had to get inspiration. To put it shortly, I ended up writing an entire 15 chapter outline for this story. So it will continue and it's going to be pretty sweet. Hope you guys are as hyped as I am. Probably not. Whatever.**

* * *

_Before_

"Max, I love you and want to spend the rest of my life with you," He had proclaimed, getting down on one knee. "Will you marry me?"

Max tasted blood in her mouth as she attempted—and failed—to push the memory away. How could one moment define the rest of her life?

"No," She had breathed, mere hours ago. Looking back, she wasn't sure why she had declined. It had been a fairy tale proposal. There had been a candlelit dinner, a string quartet, roses. He loved her. One look at him was enough to prove that.

But Max had said no. It had all come at her so suddenly, she reminded herself. They had only been dating for six months. She was only a freshman in college. Max wasn't ready for finals, let alone marriage. _I had panicked_, she thought, but she didn't regret her choices. He had seemed so broken after her refusal. The waitress had paused in her deliverance of the champagne and Dylan had never looked so…_numb_.

Did this mean they were broken up? Max didn't know. She loved Dylan. There was no denying that. But it wasn't right. No matter what, the entire evening she hadn't been able to ignore the stabbing feeling of wrongness chewing up her insides. She couldn't be sure what she wanted out of life yet, but somehow Max knew it wasn't him. As terrible as it made her feel.

Max looked around the apartment her and Dylan shared with dread. He hadn't come back home yet. She had no idea when—if—he would, but she was itching to see him again. The anticipation and unknowing that surrounded his inevitable arrival was worse than the confrontation that would follow. She was sick of waiting; she was sick of running. She just wanted to see him again.

Waiting wasn't doing her any good.

Desperate to take the edge off her growing anxiety, Max made a beeline for the fridge. The case of beer that had always repulsed her now looked undeniably enticing. Without hesitation, she pulled out a can and drowned her nerves away. She had always held such an aversion to drinking—especially due to being underage—but that night, she relished in the numbness of feeling the amber liquid supplied her.

In between sips, she had reached for her phone. A piece of her felt disheartened there were no messages from him, but she quickly shook those thoughts aside. She had to see if anybody knew where he was before she got too tipsy. She just had to know he was okay. Otherwise, not even the alcohol would subside her guilt.

"Hello?" A dulled voice spoke on the other end of the receiver.

"Holden?" Max asked, even though she knew it was him. "It's me, Max."

"Who?" His reply made her frown. Like most of her college, Dylan's friends ignored her existence. In the beginning, they had even tried to talk him out of dating the "weird girl". That had been a real self confidence booster.

"Max. Dylan's…girlfriend." She couldn't help but feel like a liar, even to herself. Was that still true? Had she gone from girlfriend to could-be-fiancee and demoted to ex?

"Oh yeah. Uh…what's up?" Holden sounded uncomfortable. Max rolled her eyes, needing another swig of beer to get through a conversation with this asshole.

"I…uh, do you know where Dylan is? It's important that I get in touch with him." She hated how pathetic she sounded. Like she was a needy, overprotective girlfriend forced to stay at home. Her distaste with herself wasn't as important as making sure he was okay. He had always been so gentle and sweet, but Dylan was too sensitive for his own good. There was no telling what he was going through.

"Dylan?" A loud crowd cheered on the other end of the line. Holden was most likely at another party with the other low lives Max refused to associate with. "Yeah, he swung by earlier. Yowza, what did you do to mess him up? I've never seen him so trashed."

Max clenched her fists. Holden really wasn't helping.

"Do you know where he is or not?" She growled, suddenly disappointed in the amber drink contaminating her brain cells. It obviously wasn't good enough if it couldn't get her through a conversation with Holden without homicidal tendencies.

"Yeah, yeah. Actually, not really. He left Jack's about an hour ago, absolutely wasted."

"Was he _driving_?" It was a struggle not to punch him through the phone. If Dylan was as drunk as he said and he was driving…

Max would never forgive herself.

"How am I supposed to know? When he left, Clara was all over me and—"

"Hey, Holden, shut up," Max spat sharply, not needing to hear the details on how the asshole's sexual advances were more important than his best friend's life.

"Just..let me know if you hear anything," She spoke softly.

"Right, sure. Hey, what's your name again?"

Feeling thoroughly repulsed, Max slammed the phone down on the marble countertop. The apartment felt too big to be so empty. She had always felt so lucky to have moved into the spacious apartment with a city view she could stare at for hours. It had been a major step up from the cramped dorm she had shared with her awful roommate, Lissa. Now, the apartment felt lonely. It's added space only served as a reminder of how badly she had screwed up. She should have stayed and made sure Dylan was okay. She should have talked to him and told him that she loved him, but just wasn't ready to marry him. She should have—

The thump on the door tore Max from her rampant thoughts.

"Dylan," She breathed, rushing to open the door. She had never been so happy to hear him. There was another thump at the door, this time more insistent. _He must be seriously drunk_, Max thought to herself, twisting the door knob.

"Dylan?" The sight of him shocked her. In only a moment she took in his sickly appearance. His once turquoise eyes were bloodshot with a yellowish pallor and a crazed absence. His normally tan skin tone had been reduced to a sickly green. He smelled as if he had been bathing in raw sewage and there was just something about the way his body was positioned—like a puppet lost without its master—that sent chills scraping down her spine. Unfortunately, the moment she paused to take in his appearance was a moment too long.

Dylan uttered an inhuman growl, pouncing in a twisted clunky fashion as he desperately clawed at Max.

"Dylan, what are you—" Her words died the moment they slipped from her tongue and were instead replaced by her surprised scream. He collided into her cannibalistically, his eyes showing no traces of recognition as he scratched and snarled.

"Hey, stop!" She croaked, her eyes wide and afraid. Dylan snapped at her neck, his teeth barely missing her skin. The weight of his body was crushing her small frame. She looked at him in horror, using all of her strength to push him away.

"Dylan, get off me!" With one final push the pressure vanished from her chest and she quickly scrambled out from underneath him.

Unfazed, Dylan moved to attack once more. Max could see the bloodlust in his eyes. She could feel the hunger in his movements.

She had never been afraid of Dylan before. All of the stories of abuse and rape happened to _other_ people. Now he just kept coming at her and he wouldn't stop. For the first time, Max knew that if given the chance, Dylan would _hurt_ her. Or worse.

He sprung at her predatorily, outstretching his arms to grab her like a meal. Without hesitation, she grabbed the nearest object—a chair—and swung at his head. There was a sickening crack. Dylan fell to the floor in a motionless heap. Max stumbled, dropping the chair in horror. She was stunned. It wasn't until now that she noticed the gaping wound on his left bicep. It looked like a bite from a wild animal.

"Dylan…" She whispered, her voice as soft as air. His head rose sharply, his dead eyes looking to meet hers. In an instant he was pulling himself up again, once more in ravenous pursuit and clawing at her legs. For a moment, she stopped. Why couldn't he just talk to her? Why was he doing this?

Tears began clouding her eyes. She needed to get out of there. She ran as fast as she could—despite being slowed down by by her dress and heels—but he was quick on her toes.

"Dylan, stop!" But he didn't. He wouldn't. He wasn't the Dylan Max had grown to love. No, this Dylan was much different. She had her back towards him as she ran. Looking back, Max would realize that had been a mistake.

A splitting pain burst through the nerves of her skull as he monstrously captured her hair, tearing her back to him. Tears were now streaming down her pale skin, washing inky tresses of mascara with it. He hovered over her, snarling and snapping his wicked jaw as he dove to tear into her neck. Out of self preservation, she threw her arms up to push him away. The act caused a strain on her already shaking muscles. He just kept coming and Max was growing tired. It felt as if they had been fighting for hours.

A trail of blood had begun to seep down her head, probably from the impact of her fall. This only seemed to make him attack her harder. She needed a plan. She needed to do something. She needed to get away from him.

"Dylan, I love you," She wailed, before calling on every ounce of strength she possessed to flip him from her shaking form. Before he could lunge for her again, she hurdled over the couch and slipped her hands beneath it's underbelly. She flipped the heavy Italian leather couch before he could follow and watched it fall on top of his writhing form. There was no telling how long he would be pinned.

She didn't look back. Instead she bolted for the door and shut it behind her. Only then did she allow herself to break down into tears.

* * *

"I'm going to kill that slimy bastard." Iggy, her brother, growled. She hadn't had anywhere else to go after the incident except for her brother's small townhouse. At first, he hadn't been too pleased to see his baby sister knocking on his door at one in the morning, but had quickly let her in after seeing her haggard appearance. She had immediately passed out on the couch without explanation. He had woken her up with a pancake buffet and an interrogation.

For the past hour she had settled to being curled up on his couch as Iggy paced, going back and forth on the various ways he would get revenge on the asshole that hurt his sister.

"I'm going to skin him alive, burn his bones, and then dance around a ceremonial fire so that I can resurrect him and kill him all over again." He decided confidently, only seeming to get angrier with each step.

"Iggy, stop," Max ordered quietly, hugging herself to forget the previous day's events. She doubted that was possible.

He spun towards her incredulously.

"Max, he _attacked_ you. The rich daddy's boy has always rubbed me the wrong way, but he tried to _hurt_ you. There's no way this guy is just going to get away with hurting my baby sis."

On any other day she would've smiled at his protectiveness. But in the course of a day her boyfriend proposed, took off after she rejected said proposal, and attacked her in a rage. Oprah just didn't prepare a girl for this stuff. She was still wearing the silk blue dress she had worn for their date, back when things were still normal. It was tattered now. The hair she had uncharacteristically spent time on had been smeared with her own blood. In short, she was a mess. Both inside and out.

"Revenge isn't going to help. He's dangerous, Ig. I already called the cops to come and arrest him." She tried to reason, wanting him to just drop the subject. Iggy's face fell as he looked at Max, no doubt seeing her as weak and as helpless as she felt.

"Can't I just blow him up a little bit?" He pouted. Max rolled her eyes and threw a pillow at him, which he dodged with a slight grin. At least after the crap day she had endured, she could always rely on her brother for a sense of normalcy.

Iggy's smile faltered as he took in her appearance somberly.

"You look like shit," He observed, rather bluntly. Max raised an eyebrow indignantly, prepared to throw another pillow at him.

Realizing his mistake, Iggy put his hands up in defense, "Whoa, whoa. You know that's not what I meant."

"Uh huh. Whatever you say asshole," She muttered, the barest hint of a smirk on her face. He put a hand over his heart in mock pain.

"Ouch Maxie, that hurts. I was just going to suggest you go change. Ella's got some clothes and whatever girls need that I'm sure she wouldn't mind you borrowing."

Ella was Iggy's girlfriend of three years. He had fallen head over heels in love with her in college and had been absolutely lovestruck in her presence ever since. She was the most independent person Max had ever met, which was why Ella refused to move in with Iggy. Officially, at least. She still practically lived there, somehow able to withstand longterm exposure to her brother. Max's family had always been so sure she would follow in their footsteps with Dylan. For some reason she felt as if she had disappointed them.

"Max? Earth to Maxie?"

"Huh?"

She was snapped back to reality and greeted with the sight of Iggy's palm obnoxiously waving in front of her face.

"Uh yeah, sure. That sounds great," She mumbled, robotically rising from the security of the couch and going to his room. Max was no stranger to Iggy's house. He had graduated from college two years beforehand and worked hard to get a job and rent a house until he could buy one for himself. That was one of the reasons he had never liked Dylan. Her boyfriend came from a well respected family that handed him everything that he could ever wish for. With that came pressure for Max to act prim and proper in front of his family. She had always come to Iggy's to blow off steam. Just…not like this.

Shaking away her thoughts, Max sighed and tore through Ella's half (more like two thirds) of the dresser to search for something to change into. She settled for a long sleeved baby blue top paired with a comfy pair of jean shorts. Ella had been going through a pink phase, so the blonde doubted she would miss them.

Max took her time changing. Her body felt sore and stiff and her bruises ached. By the time she had changed, washed her face clear from any makeup and brushed her hair, she had been gone for half an hour. Knowing Iggy, in that time he had either managed to bake a gourmet soufflé or blow something up.

To her delight, it was the former.

"You've outdone yourself Ig." She murmured in between bites of the chocolate soufflé.

"Always a pleasure to share my gifts with the world," He grinned cockily, leaning against the counter. "So I'm thinking after you inhale the chocolate in that bowl the two of us should have an epic Mario Kart showdown."

"Oh you're so on," She grinned, about ninety percent sure chocolate stained her teeth in unattractive lumps. Max wasn't an idiot; she knew what he was doing. He was trying to distract her, but she didn't care. She had missed hanging out with her brother and just feeling carefree.

But that didn't happen this time.

Even while savoring her chocolate cloud of heaven, winning in Mario Kart, and laughing as Iggy rolled on the ground in humiliation, she couldn't help but think about the events of the previous night. Dylan had looked so…unlike himself. She had just assumed he was drunk. As if being drunk could _ever_ be an excuse for what he did. No, just because it was the first time _she_ ever drank didn't mean she had never seen anyone drunk before. Dylan would drag Max into college bars all the time where she would witness Holden's antics, which were deplorable, but nothing like the events of the night before.

Something had been off with him.

She voiced her concerns to Iggy, but his response had been lackluster.

"It's obvious," He shrugged while pounding on the buttons of his controller. "Your boyfriend is a zombie."

"Haha," She responded dryly. Sighing, Iggy paused the game and returned his focus to her. Max had always been impressed with his ability to morph between the hyperactive goofball and the sensitive, caring older brother.

"Listen Max, guys like Dylan are used to getting everything they want. You rejected him and he showed his true colors. Let's just be glad that he didn't get away with it." He explained, as if it were that simple. But he hadn't been there. It wasn't like a typical abuse story where a guy hits a girl or vice versa. No, his actions had been nothing short of animalistic. She had looked into his eyes and what she saw was _not_ Dylan.

"Ig, it wasn't like that. It was almost like he was trying to…I dunno…_eat me_ or something sick like that. He just didn't look like himself. His skin was like this ghastly shade of yellow, his clothes were a mess, there was this bloody wound on the back of his arm, and his eyes were like these dead orbs just rolling around in his skull! I'm telling you it wasn't natural."

There was a pause as he took in her description.

"You do know I was kidding about the zombie thing, right?"

Max frowned at him. How the hell was she supposed to share her frustration when her own brother was making fun of her?

"How's your head?" He finally asked, concern written across his face. She leaned away from him and subconsciously grazed the back of her scalp. It had been bleeding pretty badly when she arrived at Iggy's the night before.

"I'm not crazy," She muttered darkly.

"I'm not saying you are. I'm asking how your head is after sustaining a head wound and drinking while underage like a no good hooligan," He raised his hands in a sign of peace. She was too tired to glare at him.

"Fine, I guess. I just hope I bled all over that asshole's fancy carpet."

Iggy snorted, twirling the cord of his Xbox controller absentmindedly. It was a nice visual after such a harsh twenty four hours. Somehow Iggy's presence had a way of making her feel her most comfortable. It was something she missed after he left for college.

"If I had anything to do with it that dick would have a lot more than a stained carpet," He spat, tensing up at the very idea of Dylan.

"It's a really nice carpet," Max appealed. Her remark did nothing to curb his bloodlust. She sighed, knowing she would have to do something to control her brother.

"Hey, listen, why don't you put in a game you actually have a chance at _winning_ and I'll get some coffee." She gave him a small smile as she stood up, only making it three steps before the window to her left exploded. The scream of a woman was quick to follow.

"What was—"

The droning of a roque fire alarm cut off Iggy's question. Max flew to the window, craning her neck to view the source of the chaos.

"Do you see anything?" Her brother asked, peering behind her. A few people had begun to crowd the streets. Some had even begun to run. Aside from a shadow or two from behind the curtain of the house perpendicular to her, Max saw nothing.

"No, but you should probably call the cops. Just in…"

The words faded from her lips as she spun to see Iggy holding out an open phone.

"The line's dead." He stated simply.

_Oh_, she thought. _So much for that plan._

They stood rooted in thick silence that seemed impossible to break. Until it wasn't.

There was a heavy thumping at the door. Max swallowed tightly, sure she had heard a similar sound only a day ago.

"I don't suppose that could be our friendly neighborhood grandma come to ask for sugar?" The lanky strawberry blond deadpanned, drifting to the locked door. Max's chest constricted. She was unable to escape the feeling of dread that had descended upon her.

"It's Dylan." She didn't know how she was so positive. Iggy's pace to the door quickened. He looked out the peephole, radiating in wave after wave of fury at the thought of Dylan being there.

"Shit, you're right. Wow you weren't kidding, he looks like crap," Iggy remarked, finding some dark humor in the deterioration of the man who hurt his little sister.

"Yup," She spoke, popping the _p._ "Wait, you aren't seriously going to let him in, are you?"

He ignored her bewildered gasp.

"Calm down Maxie, your big bro's got this covered. I'm just going to make sure this douche doesn't try anything again." He waved her off and twisted open the door.

"Listen here Dyl—"

Dylan descended upon her brother immediately, snapping his jaws with the aim to devour and destroy. Ice burned though Max's blood. She was unable to contain the horrified scream that burst from her raw throat.

"What the _fu—_"

Iggy roared in pain, a sound so guttural and emotive that Max could've sworn she felt the pain herself. Crimson flashed in the outskirts of her vision. Without a thought, her palm enclosed around the cool circular handle of her brother's carving knife and she flew to his rescue.

Max's stomach plummeted as the visuals of the attack assaulted her visuals. She knew she would never be able to forget what lay in front of her. The smell, the sight, the terror, the gore; all of it would be permanently burned into her memories. Iggy choked, using all of his strength to keep the monster that was Dylan at bay. His arm was gushing blood. Chunks of raw flesh and tissue were stuck in the open mouth of the growling monster across from her.

He was _eating_ him.

The thought alone would've made her hurl if not for the dire situation at hand.

"Dylan," She spoke, but her words came too late. The knife she gripped in her sweaty palm felt powerful as she swung and arced the steel tip into her ex boyfriend's skull. He dropped, falling away from Iggy to drop to the wooden floor with a heavy _thump_.

She choked, unable to breath, let alone scream. Horror burst from her breaking heart and imploding lungs. Gravity had dominated over her weak knees, sending her sprawling to the ground unceremoniously. She just stared at the body lying inches from her own. From the still open door, the girl had an unobstructed view into the street, where beings that suspiciously resembled Dylan trekked by in ever increasing numbers. The sound of her screaming caught their attention. Though still unable to feel breath in her gasping lungs, Max kicked the door shut tightly. To her left, Iggy stared at his still bleeding wound in shock. He was looking worryingly pale.

"Iggy?" Her voice shook with emotion. She still felt tremors from the knife's impact in her shaking hand. The _squelching_ sound the blade had emitted as it entered his skull would haunt her nightmares until she died.

She was a murderer. She had acted out of self defense. Her brother's life had been at stake. She chose one life over another.

_Murderer._

"Maxie," He gazed up at her, his blue eyes glittering with unshed tears.

"Dylan. He was a—"

"He was a psychopath. He—he wouldn't have stopped," She would tell herself that mantra to live with herself. His blood stained her hands. Iggy shook his head. His movements were slow, as if every muscle in his body was treading water.

"He—he bit me." The shock in his voice echoed across the room, across her mind.

"We'll get you patched up. There's a hospital a couple miles from here. I can call Ella and fill her in," She spoke as if she were trying to convince herself.

"I can't believe it. The bastard was _actually_ a zombie. He was a zombie and he bit—"

"No!" Max interrupted her brother sharply. "No. No, no, no. There are no such things as zombies! If anything, he must have been bitten by a rabid dog."

Iggy looked unsure. There were more screams coming from outside. Max bit her lip.

"You're going to be fine, Ig. I promise. We just need to get out of here."

He nodded. She wasn't sure if he believed her, but he trusted her.

Everything would be fine.

* * *

_Now_

Maximum Ride had no doubt in her mind she was headed for hell. She had done whatever it took to survive. Stuff that made her glad her brother wasn't around to see what she had become. At first, adapting to the new world had been hard. It had gotten easier with time as her morals could only be described in various shades of grey. Now, it was a second nature.

So why was it, as she tore through the forest, that she had begun to feel _guilty_? It was an emotion she hadn't expressed in a long time. Perhaps because the only people she had associated with as of late had been dead and trying to eat her.

Fang's infuriatingly optimistic personality had been refreshing. Naive, but refreshing nonetheless. She had to admit that her time spent with him had been among the few fond memories she had collected since the apocalypse's beginning. There was just no way she could have stayed. It would be complicated and painful. He was different than most survivors. That made him dangerous. Or worse, living on borrowed time. She had liked him. In a post apocalyptic world, that was just something she couldn't afford.

So she ran. She continued to run even as twigs snapped against her skin and thorns tugged at her hair. The only sound in the world was the rough padding of her feet against the moist earth.

That was the world she knew. You fight and you survive and then you die. She had been lucky so far. Sometimes it became hard to remember the zombies she fought had been just like her once. What had been their downfall? Were they not strong enough? Were they not smart enough? Could it really be determined as anything other than having a bad day? As often as the mystery plagued her, Max refused to find out. She kept running, knowing the roaring in he lungs and the burning in her legs was a sign she was still alive.

"Please, my brother is sick. We just need the medicine!"

Max paused, her eyes growing wide at the sound of another voice. It was small and feminine—possibly belonging to a child. Her mind was calculating the possibilities with the precision of a machine. If need be, she could easily overpower the child. Except, the girl wasn't talking to her. She hadn't even noticed Max's presence.

_Sloppy_, Max noted, moving into a crouching position behind a bush. From her perch she could see a little girl around six or seven. She was standing opposite from a group of the oldest people Max had come across since zombies started eating people. It was a strange sort of juxtaposition, she realized, watching the youngest and the oldest in a Westside Story-esque face off. Most children and elderly were dead.

"I don't know, Charles. After what we went through to get this stuff…after what happened to Liam?" The woman spoke in what Max assumed was supposed to be a hushed voice to the man on her right. He gazed at the little girl from behind his cracked glasses.

"Please. He's really sick." She accentuated, her big blue eyes sparkling. She was surprisingly clean.

"Is he bit?" The man on the left asked sharply. He was the closest to the little girl in height, due to his hunched back. She shook her head quickly, bouncing her limp golden curls.

"Well—" The leaves shifted to Max's left. Her hand immediately clutched the spot in her boot where she kept Mr. Pointy, but grasped air. She cursed under her breath, remembering she had left her stake behind at Fang's camp. As if it were a consolation for her leaving and stealing his stuff.

A zombie pinned beneath a log had spotted her. She exhaled in relief. She could handle a trapped zombie without her weapon of choice easily. It's arms stretched out pathetically, clawing at thin air. Max rolled her eyes. Some zombies were just so _dumb_.

Before the group could move to investigate the noise, she cautiously shifted her weight towards the flailing zombie. She had picked up a good sized rock from the forest floor and now gripped it tightly. When she was a safe distance away, Max quickly swung the blunt force down into the zombie's soft skull. Three times, for good measure. It would have been quicker with Mr. Pointy, but the rock got its job done. The squelching of the brain as it burst and popped its juices over her hands was something Max would never get used to. She wrinkled her nose in disgust. The smell positively sucked.

"He's sick. I already lost my parents. I can't lose him too!" The girl sobbed, holding her face in her hands. Max's attention had turned back to the scene before her.

"She's just a little girl." The elderly woman had once again turned to the man beside her. Max noticed the girl's attention was beyond the group. Unnoticed by the trio, a young boy slipped into the clearing. His eyes were trained on the trio's supplies which resided on the ground behind them.

"Holy shit," Max breathed, understanding what was happening. Despite her best intuition, she found herself jumping to her feet. All eyes—and weapons—were on her. The boy froze.

"They're robbing you. Just thought you should know. Her perfectly healthy brother is about to grab your supplies."

The little girl gaped and the boy let out a squeak as the trio rounded on them. Max couldn't explain why she felt the need to prevent a robbery after just committing one herself. She liked to think it had something to do with her need to protect the underdog. Even in the zombie apocalypse. there was no excuse to rob a trio of old people.

"What did you do?" The little girl screeched at Max. The boy accompanying her had taken off into the woods. Max shrugged, choosing to walk to walk away with her own supplies in hand. She had dealt with too many humans in one day. Her social skills (which sucked to begin with) were embarrassingly subpar.

It wasn't any of her business what happened to the two. All she could do was what she had done so far. Keep on walking and focusing on how to survive the next day. If she did that she could—

Suddenly she was flying. And screaming. A little bit of both as the security of the forest floor vanished. Her surrounding were closing in on themselves. Tighter and tighter.

Max felt her chest constrict as she struggled to find security. She was enclosed in a bag—no, a net—about ten feet above the ground. In her surprise, her supplies had fallen to the ground beneath her.

She was stuck.

"Shit!" She screeched, pounding her fists into the ropes that contained her. Her palms shook the enclosure furiously.

"Thank you, dear. Without your help we'd be in a very tough spot." the voice of the elderly woman caught Max's attention. How long had the trio been standing there?

"Uh, yeah. Don't mention it," Max replied shakily, "Wait, actually I take that back. Do mention it. Is there any way you can let me down from this trap? The little con artists must have set it up."

"Oh, no. That's our trap." The stout man spoke proudly.

"That's great! That means you can get me down!" Max enthused brightly. The trio looked to each in a conspiratory manner.

"Actually, we can't. Sorry sweetheart, but I think we're just going to take your stuff." The woman apologized. Her two cohorts had begun to gather her belongings. Max's jaw dropped.

"But I saved you!" She insisted, fighting even harder against her restraints.

"Oh and we really appreciate that. Really, we do. But it's a tough world out there. We just have to do what we can to survive. You understand, don't you?"

Boy, did she ever. But the damn geezer didn't have to sound so patronizing.

"No! Get your dirty wrinkles off my stuff you hag!" Max screamed, throwing her body weight against the net. The old bitch looked offended and the three cast her a dirty look before leaving. Last minute, the stout man took out a case of something and poured it over the grass. Max couldn't get a good look at it, but judging by the rotten toad's dirty expression, it wasn't very nice.

No. Freaking. Way.

Not caring she was in a zombie infested world, Max screamed. Boy, did she scream. Screamed and punched and clawed and…

The sound of laughter echoed into Max's eardrums.

_Great_, she mused bitterly, _more people_. And not just any people.

"Well, well, well, you're very _high_ and mighty these days, aren't you?" Taunted the young boy. Max groaned. Little kid taunting was bad. Little kid humor was worse.

"They stole our stuff too you know," The girl pointed out, "We were trying to get back what was ours. That is, until _someone_ messed it up."

"Look, I'm sorry," Max sighed, "I really am. I thought i was helping. I know you two probably hate me, but it's going to be dark soon. I need to get down from here pronto. Any chance you could help me out?"

She looked to the two desperately. They glanced back and forth at one another, seeming to communicate mentally. After a long pause, the girl nodded.

"The trap is too high for us," She gestured to herself and her brother, "But we saw another campfire really close. We'll go get them and come back for you."

It was like irony was kicking her butt today. She knew what camp they were talking about. She couldn't imagine what Fang would do to her once he found her.

"Wait, no!" She interjected, but the two had already run off. She hadn't felt so helpless in a long time. The only thing that could make her day worse was—

A low groaning noise came from below her. Then another and another. Zombies. Lots and lots of zombies.

Well, shit.

* * *

**Aj: Whoa this was hella long. Oops. That's the power of flashbacks I guess. (Where I snuck in a bit of Iggy for you guys already mourning him. Don't worry, you still haven't seen the last of him.) So Fang is back next chapter. That will be very...interesting. **

**Let me know what you guys think, as always. ;)**

**-Aj.**


	3. Damsels Don't Survive

**Aj: You guys would not believe how long I've been trying to post this. Ugh, I swear I do not have any skills in technology. I need help. Oh, and I have some advice for ****all of you guys that aren't juniors in high school yet. Don't do it. Yup, that's my advice for the day.**

* * *

Fang hadn't always traveled alone. The world was already dying. It didn't seem to make sense to seclude himself from what was left of it. From the very beginning of the apocalypse he had found himself jumping from group to group. Most from the beginning, back when people had hope someone was coming to save them, hadn't lasted very long. There was one group he had been apart of that he had stayed with the longest. It was large—almost like a community of people. It had made it easy to pretend the world was the same. It hadn't taken him long to become attached, but he hadn't been able to stay. Not after what had happened.

Since his departure, he had managed to last on his own. It was lonely and quiet, but it was safer than he had been. He had even managed to stay camped in more or less the same place without being found. Then he met Max.

She was human, that was for sure. Maybe a little too human. Her numerous flaws reeked of humanity. Yet, she was acted so familiar. That had intrigued him, amongst other things.

_"How do you know I won't leave?" _She had asked. He could tell she had been alone much longer than he had. She possessed all the tell tale signs.

_"You won't," _He had been so sure of himself. "_You may have survived this world by closing yourself off, but I've found the only way to survive is to never stop believing in a person's humanity. The day I refuse to trust will be the day they win."_

He had been so sure he had gotten through to her. But she had left.

He would find her. Fang was sure of it as he skillfully packed up what was left of his camp. He would find her, he would get back his supplies, and then…

Fang wasn't too sure what he planned to do next. Keep running? Keep hiding? Living in a zombie apocalypse hadn't left him too many options when it came to recreational enjoyment. Especially not when his life was always at risk. Finding Max wouldn't have been as big of a deal if she hadn't showed up, acting so damn familiar, and then stole the only thing that had kept him safe from those out for his blood.

There was no question about it. Her stake—Mr. Pointy—burned his palm as he set off in his trek through the woods. If he didn't find her, they would find him. He wasn't prepared to allow the first human he had encountered since he had been on his own darken his own reflection on what was left of humanity. Especially not when she'd acted so much like _her_. This was his second chance. He wasn't going to mess it up.

But before he could do anything, he would have to find her through the vast forest crawling with lame brains. Which brought him to the present, as he ducked under overlong branches and quietly stomped across bloodstained leaves. He had been walking for what seemed like hours and while he had come across the tracks of wandering lame brains, there were none to be found. _Strange_, he thought, _where could they all have gathered to_? Especially when it would be dark soon.

"Hey! Hey you!" A tinny voice, childish in pitch, distracted him from his ponderings. He looked up to see two small kids, both similar in appearance, rushing towards him. He observed the two with brazen curiosity. It was rare to see kids anymore. At least, the living ones.

"Please," the boy with messy blond hair panted. "We need your help."

Fang rose an eyebrow in question. The girl, who looked even younger, stepped in for her brother.

"There's a girl—kinda annoying—that's trapped in a net. We're too short to get her down and it's going to be dark soon. We told her we would get help."

Fang was now highly intrigued. How many girls were there to be found in these parts of the woods? Could it be that he had found her?

"By the way, you wouldn't happen to have any medicine, would you?" Fang blinked at the girl's insistent question as she stared up at him with big, blue, hopeful eyes. Slowly, he shook his head in response.

"Not anymore. It was packed with some supplies a girl stole from me that I'm trying to get back," He answered with the barest hint of a determined smile upon his lips. The girl jumped into action, tugging his hand along through the dense forest. The boy staggered behind, moving slower than his much more enthusiastic sister.

"I'm Angel, by the way," The girl chimed proudly. "That's Gazzy. It's been just the two of us for about a week now."

Fang had enough sense to not ask what had happened to make them alone. In a world where the mortality rate was at an all time high, the past brought pain for everyone.

Suddenly, Fang heard a low growl carrying through the trees. He put a hand on the girl—Angel's— shoulder and drew her back. The moaning continued, magnifying with each breath.

"So this is where they're all going," Fang spoke in a hush. "We're going to have to go a different way to get around that clearing. They all seem to be circling that area, which will give us an opportunity to get her down in time."

"But—"

Gazzy didn't have to finish. Over the sounds of moaning came the equally distinct cursing and brash yelling that belonged to a human. Max.

Finding her had just become infinitely more complicated. No longer was it a matter of getting her down. Somehow they would need to face off against a horde of zombies and get her down with only a gun and a stake in terms of weapons.

Was one girl worth it? One girl that had done nothing but steal his supplies? Most survivors of the apocalypse would have allowed her a cruel death for her actions. But that was just it, wasn't it? Most survivors acted out of survival over morality. Fang would rather die than become a survivor that could only be told apart from the lame brains by the beating of his pulse. He would save her, he would get his stuff back, and he would never let her live this down. But first…

"We need a plan." He murmured, still not sure about allowing two kids that couldn't be above the age of ten into a battle with a horde of lame brains. Unfortunately it didn't seem like he had much other options.

"Like what? Don't get eaten?" Gazzy muttered, nervously scratching his shoulder. Fang rolled his eyes and slowly inched closer to the clearing. There must have been around twenty lame brains and with all the noise they were causing there was bound to be more. Fang slowly pulled out his gun.

"Find some weapons. Rocks, remnants, anything that's sharp and hard enough to penetrate the skull. Our best bet is to get the herd to disperse. Once you two find weapons we're going to make a triangle around the clearing and make enough noise to grab their attention. Then we pick them off. Sound good?"

The two nodded fiercely and scoured the earth floor. Fang moved behind a section of trees that gave him a good view of the clearing and the siblings. Max was thrashing around in a makeshift net about ten feet off the ground shooting off a storm of nasty expletives. Lame brains were in a massive heap below, attempting to claw at her.

He sighed, silently wondering what he had gotten himself into as he shot his gun into the air. It let out a loud _bang_, drawing the attention of both the lame brains and Max. Her eyes landed on him in horror, leaving her lips parted in a gaping _o_. He merely smirked at her and turned to face the crowd now shifting towards him. From her position, Angel screamed with a grin upon her delicate face. Some lame brains turned while others continued to progress towards Fang. He steeled himself, gun in hand. Gazzy hollered at the top of his lungs, thinning out the lame brains more so. Some remained underneath Max.

Making sure there was enough empty space behind him in case he needed to retreat, Fang narrowed his eyes and quickly shot the front line in the heads. As they came closer, Fang continued to shoot without hesitation. It was a normal repetition he had forced himself to become accustomed to.

Breathe in, breathe out, aim, pull the trigger, repeat, live. A break in the pattern meant death. That wasn't an option. Not yet.

The growling was growing louder. From the corner of his eye he could see more lame brains from the outskirts of the woods swarming to the clearing. With every corpse he killed, three more appeared from the woods.

_Bang_. The last lame brain's blood splattered across his face. For just a moment, he turned his back on the clearing to observe the approaching dead.

That was when he heard the scream. Fang spun around quickly just in time to see the hungry lame brains managing to reach the bottom of the net holding Max in safety. The combined weight tore the bottom, sending Max falling into the hungry crowd.

"No," Fang breathed. A new pressure clawing into Fang held him from rushing to her aid. Without struggle, Fang threw the lame brain off of his back and shot it in the head before it could stagger towards him once more. The decomposing body thumped to the ground in a bloodied heap, giving Fang an opening to enter the clearing.

The herd blocked Fang from his line of vision. He heard another scream. All his anger toward the girl dissipated in the heat of battle. Now all he felt was raw fear. Could it be already too late? Could she already be a meal? Or worse?

Fang pulled out his gun and began taking out the crowd. There were maybe ten lame brains clawing for Max. It was a large number for anyone to take on alone and survive. Was Max enough? He hadn't heard her voice in a while. Fang continued to shoot, lowering the number. 8…7…6…5…

There she was. The crowd had thinned enough that Fang was able to see a very pissed off blonde kicking away a rather persistent lame brain. Her gaze fell upon Fang.

"Well are you gonna stand there or are you gonna—"

He shot the undead attacking her before she could finish. Fang smirked and she let out a huff before rolling out of the crowd and managing to get to her feet. She faced the remaining lame brains with a stony glare, despite having no weapon in hand.

"Catch." From his belt loop, he pulled out Max's stake, Mr. Pointy, and tossed it to her. She caught it gracefully with the barest hint of a grin on her face. The two zombies rushing towards her were disposed of with a quick jab. Gun in hand, Fang shot the last three with ease.

"Fancy shooting you got there," She muttered. The zombies in the clearing had been taken care of, leaving the two panting side by side. They awaited the incoming lame brains.

"Just giving you more of an excuse to check me out, I suppose," He replied cockily. She rolled her eyes and stabbed an incoming lame brain. They didn't have time to wince at the _squelching_ sound it created, instead facing off against two more.

"Why are there so many?" He shouted to her above the noise of the angry lurkers and gun shots. She took a moment to answer, due to being in the middle of stabbing a lame brain with a strong arcing movement.

"The damn old bastards that trapped me in that net. Before leaving one of them poured something on the ground so they had more time to get away. It was probably blood," Max growled just as Fang noticed the large crimson stain on the earth. Whoever it was that the blonde had run into, they were smart. Every survivor knew that zombies were attracted to the smell of blood. Some were even able to track humans for miles if they smelt or tasted enough of a person's blood. Just one of the many dangers the apocalypse had brought them.

"On your left." Max called. Fang had the time to duck the outstretched arms of a biter and shoot it in the head. Out of the corner of his eye, he checked on the siblings. Both seemed to be holding their own. To his right, Max yelled out in pain. His heart beat quickened as he turned. Max had been fighting well until a lame brain had grabbed her by her tresses of hair. It pulled her closer roughly and violently, suddenly inches away from tearing into her ripe flesh. He raised his gun to shoot, but was met with a hollow click. Out of ammo.

"Dammit," He hissed. In the future, when he would look back on that moment, he would remember it had happened too fast for him to truly take in the situation. He would remember the way his heart plummeted, but not how quickly the lame brain struck. He would always remember the fear in the girl's chocolatey brown orbs that glistened with tears. He would never know what she was thinking of or who she was apologizing to, as all survivors did when they were seconds away from dying.

But where Fang stood, with an empty gun in his hand, the future was a long time away. With adrenaline pumping through his heart and blood pouring into his muscles, he lunged for the lame brain holding Max mere centimeters away and slammed its back into a nearby tree. The glassy lifeless orbs of the corpse were now trained on him. The lame brain struggled viciously to tear into the arm Fang was using to restrain it. He tightened his grip on the barrel of the handgun he possessed and swung the butt of it into the skull of the lame brain. Its decomposing skull sunk inwards with a resounding _crack_. Blood and other slimy juices squirted out, dripping down the length of Fang's arm. The lame brain stopped struggling for a moment before resisting weakly once more. Fang bashed its head in again, clenching his jaw.

He felt guilt. He felt like he should be the one getting his head bashed in. He felt pity for the man that had been just like him before the sickness spread. Whoever it was that was pinned before him had just had one bad day. That was all it took. He felt no pity for the monster it had become. He just longed for the world where killing wasn't a means of survival.

Too bad that world was over.

There was a voice behind him calling his name. Somberly, he dropped the empty gun stained with blood to the earth and took a step backwards. He registered a close growling behind him when it was too late. Fang could smell the rotting flesh of a lame brain two inches away from him. He turned around just in time to see Max, looking strong and determined, as she thrust her stake into the soft skull of the biter that had just been about to rip his throat out. She grimaced at the droplets of blood that splattered onto her face. Fang thought he had never seen someone look so good covered in blood and dirt.

"Ever noticed that we make a good team?" Fang broke the silence with a smirk.

"We nearly died." She challenged with her arms crossed and an attitude that penetrated him with more force than the stake she held so fondly.

"Yeah, thanks for that by the way, little miss damsel." She shot him a fierce glare. The wave of zombies seemed to have subsided.

"I don't damsel." She protested.

"Was that before or after I found you hanging trapped in a net with a herd of lame brains waiting to _eat_ you?"

She huffed, clearly unamused. Fang felt pleased with himself.

"C'mon Max, don't deny that we worked pretty well with each other," He urged, still buzzing with adrenaline.

"Fine, Fang. Thank you so _very much_ for not allowing me to die a grisly death. Happy?" She seemed more annoyed with herself than with him. He could imagine why. The girl that saw everything in terms of survival would have died had she been left to fend for her own.

"We did it!" A cheer rang out from the other end of the clearing. Fang looked away to see the siblings running toward him excitedly. Dead bodies—the dead dead kind—were scattered along the earth. The smell was terrible, but it was a better alternative than lying with them. Before he could stop himself, Fang wondered how many had died so far in the apocalypse. Thousands? Millions?…Billions?

Despite the wave of sadness that had descended upon him, he faked a smile to the awaiting siblings and high fived Gazzy. He couldn't allow himself to feel so much sorrow for the dead that he forgot about the living.

"Did you see us?" Gazzy crowed, "We were epic! They just kept coming and I was like 'pachow in your face barf breath! Die.'"

Angel giggled at her brother's animated reenactment and Fang found himself with a small smile upon his face. He barely knew them, but the kids were growing on him.

A streak of movement caught his eye. In the midst of celebration, Max had used the opportunity to begin her escape. Fang couldn't help but feel anger toward the girl who had only come into his life two days beforehand. No, she wasn't going to leave again. Not yet. He wasn't done with her yet.

His hand shot out and encircled her arm. She jumped in shock.

"So Max," he spoke smugly from behind her, "Let's talk."

He told her he would find her.

* * *

**Aj: Soooo I really like Fang's backstory. That is only going to be revealed through hints for now so I'm looking forward to seeing what you guys predict for his past. It will come up in a few chapters. And for those of you guys wondering where the rest of the flock are (and STILL mourning Iggy) don't worry. You'll see them soon. **

**The plots going to get moving really fast soon so review and tell me what you guys think. Until then, I'll leave you to consider all of the ways I can hurt your soul in a zombie apocalypse story. I've already begun the foreshadowing. ;)**

**-Aj.**


	4. No Turning Back

**Aj: So...it'd been kind of a while since I posted. I guess a year counts as a while. Oops. So, when a story doesn't get updated in over a year, especially when it is just starting out, that's normally a good sign it's not going to be finished. As always, I am a rebel and breaking this rule. That is, if you guys are still interested. **

**Technically, this is only half of chapter 4 because when you're gone for a year, the chapters tend to be longer. The 2nd half will be posted in a few days (and by days I do mean days. Not, you know, a year).**

* * *

"So," The man said to her with a warm smile. "Where were you the day everything went to hell?"

Max let out a scoff in between her ferocious gnawing at the first morsels of food she had had in days—canned corn and beef jerky. Beside her, Iggy let out the first laugh he had emitted in days. The sound filled her with warmth, so much that she paused from her chewing (ahem, inhaling) to glance up at him. He was pale—paler than usual—with thick purple rings under his eyes and a clammy complexion. _He was just sick_, Max had repeated to herself, _the stress of the past few days had just impacted his health_. He would be fine tomorrow. And then the next day. And the day after that. And—

But now though, now he was smiling sardonically at the middle aged man who had insisted on providing the two with refuge. Nobody had ever asked them that question before. Then again, lately, most of the people the two had run into hadn't been as interested in talking as they were feasting upon their limbs and organs.

"Well, it all started when Maxie here," Iggy paused to ruffle her hair, like he knew she hated, "showed up on my doorstep, totally interrupting my beauty sleep, as you may have been able to tell, trying to get me to let her win at Mario Kart by claiming her snobby boyfriend proposed and then tried to eat her."

The man across from them—Patrick, he had said his name was—looked upon her brother in an amused sort of confusion. Max rolled her eyes at her brother, wishing she could slug him in the arm, but restrained herself. That was the arm that Dylan had—that was the arm that was hurt.

"That is not how it happened, you boob." She spoke for the first time since entering Patrick's camp. Patrick's eyes widened at her in surprise, his bushy eyebrows rising.

"That's how I remember it," Iggy retorted, leering down at her. "You always were a sore loser. A zombie apocalypse is a small price to pay for you to save yourself the humiliation of defeat."

Max wanted to laugh, to enjoy the first bit of banter she had had with her brother since _it_ happened, but she couldn't help but flinch at his blunt usage of the 'z' word. Before, they had enjoyed a silent agreement to not use the 'z' word. When they said it out loud, it would be admitting what they both knew was real. It would be admitting that there was no going back, that this was their life. It would be admitting that the wound on Iggy's arm was more than just a bite from his sister's sociopathic ex-boyfriend.

Max couldn't help but feel betrayed. What had changed that made him think he could break the rules all of a sudden? What would change next?

"Well, after our first run in, we did what everyone did. Looked for family. Looked for friends. Tried to figure out what the hell was going on," Iggy continued, more somberly this time. The reason was obvious. Despite looking for family, despite looking for friends, there were only two survivors sitting across from Parker. Even though the horrors were just beginning, Parker had enough sense to not pry further into the exact details. How Iggy and Max had stumbled to the house of their parents only to find their father feasting upon their mother's remains. How Iggy had forced the sobbing mess of his sister into another room while he put their parents out of their misery. How the trauma had sent Iggy into a frenzy in search of Ella. A frenzy that had held no leads, but had led them to Parker. How Iggy was getting sicker.

Max was grateful Parker didn't try to pry.

Instead, the man who had discovered her practically dragging a sobbing Iggy away from the ruins of Ella's car with no Ella had taken them in, fed them, and introduced them to his family.

While Parker sat with them, around the crackling fire that illuminated the ginger locks of his Paul Bunyon-esque beard and chubby rosy cheeks, his wife—a thin, pretty lady with dark skin and a frail demeanor—put their three young children to bed. Parker must have caught Max staring, as his entire demeanor brightened more noticeably than the flames between them.

"I couldn't imagine having to go through this alone," He murmured to them both. "We're the lucky ones. No matter how dark the world gets, I know that as long as my family is with me, the light will always overpower the dark. You both are lucky to have one another."

He looked back to his wife, yet this time his eyes seemed haunted as opposed to the cheery optimism he had bubbled with from the moment they met him, mere hours ago. He turned back to face them, gripping his mug tighter as his smile dropped. "Family is the most important thing now that any of us have. Family keeps us sane, keeps us grounded. There are going to be a lot of folks who forget what it is like to trust and open their hearts. They are going to be looking out for their own survival without giving a damn about others. And it'll be easier. It's dangerous to love, to open our hearts, but love is the only thing that will separate us from the walkers."

He bit his lip, looking back at the stilling forms of his daughters, their bright red hair spilling out from beneath their blankets, before facing them again. "I can only imagine that we haven't even had a taste of the hard stuff yet. And, when that happens, I want people I trust around me. I don't trust loners who have forgotten what it is like to love, because I know if it came between the lives of my daughters or them, they would run. You two, however, know what it is like to love. It's rare that I've seen a bond between two people as close as yours. I'd be honored to invite the two of you to stay with us, if you'd like."

Max paused, taken aback by his declaration. A home? Family? Trust? It all sounded so wonderful, so familiar even in a world where it seemed as if concepts such as those wouldn't—couldn't—exist. She turned her head to look at Iggy, who looked as if he were about to faint. Had his breathing always been this shallow, she wondered. Or was it merely—

With a start, she realized where he was looking. At the wound on his arm. And now, Parker was looking at it too.

"You alright there, son?"

The statement was simple, concise. Clearly, he was much more on edge now than when he had just been offering them sanctuary, complete with food, shelter, family, supplies—

Supplies like medicine, Max realized.

Iggy bit his hip guiltily, looking as if he were about to say something, before Max cut in, "Around the time the world went to hell, animals were just as spooked as the people. We were running when a Pit bull bit him. Along the way, we've tried getting it looked at but…you can see why that'd be difficult for obvious reasons."

A moment passed between the three, with Parker looking back and forth between the two, before the apprehension faded from his clear blue eyes.

"Sarah!" He called behind him. "Can you fetch the medical supplies? This poor boy became a pup's chew toy along the way. Can't have our new guests getting an infection, can we?"

He looked back to the two with an easygoing grin as he led Iggy over to where his wife was collecting antiseptic and fresh bandages. Finally alone, Max let out a breath. She had told a little white lie, but it would be fine. Iggy would be fine.

Like Parker had said, family was important. Iggy was her family. Iggy was all that she had left.

But maybe, once he got better, they could find a new family here too.

It was dark outside when Max found herself in Iggy's tent, falling to her hands and knees by his side. His breathing was labored and sweat drowned out his features, once goofy and handsome now reduced to shaking and fearful.

"Ig," She whispered, reaching out a hand to feel his forehead. He caught her wrist in mid-air with a vice-like grip and slowly opened his eyes to look at her. Fear radiated off of him in waves. His eyes shone with unshed tears.

"You shouldn't have lied to them, Maxie," He breathed roughly. "You and I both know what the truth is."

"Shut up, Ig," She murmured, wrestling her wrist free without much struggle. "You're just being a drama queen, as always. You're going to be fine, we're going to find Ella—"

A gut wrenching sob tore through him. He looked up at her desperately, begging her with his eyes to see all the pain that lurked beneath.

"I—I never got to see her again," He croaked. "I never even got to say goodbye."

Max was suddenly finding it hard to swallow.

"Shut up Ig," She ground out, pouring what was left of the water in her pouch onto an abandoned strip of cloth to blot his forehead. It was just the fever talking. They just hadn't cleaned his wound quickly enough and even Iggy's stubbornness wasn't enough to keep off the infection. "When we find Ella, I'm _so_ going to tell her about how sappy you became while she was gone. She'll find it hilarious."

Iggy attempted a smirk as he attempted to hold her gaze, but it came out as more of a grimace.

"I think I'm dying."

Max froze, utterly and completely froze, before forcing herself to continue furiously blotting Iggy's forehead.

"No you aren't, you big baby," She choked, because how else was she supposed to respond? How else do you respond to your brother, the one person who had never left, declaring his imminent demise? Delirious, that's what he was. When he got better, Max decided, she would give him a pounding for scaring her like that.

"Max," There was an agency in his voice now, despite his frailty. He gripped the inside of her elbow, forcing her to look at him. "I need you to promise me that, if I don't make it, you'll keep fighting. That you'll be strong."

"Iggy—"

"No!" He cried, literal tears now beginning to flow. "Max, no. You _need_ to promise me that you'll do whatever it takes to survive, no matter what. I can't…I can't…"

Iggy paused, taking in a shaky breath before once again looking her in the eye.

"I can't leave without knowing my little sister is okay."

Max bit her lip, not wanting to play into his delusions because _he was _not _going to die_ but also now unable to stop the raw burning lump lodged in her throat or the sick pounding of her heart.

"You've always protected me," She whispered, hating how weak and pathetic her voice sounded. "You can't leave. I can't just _abandon _you and keep going on my own."

For just a moment, Max let herself pretend that Iggy wasn't going to be okay. That the rumors of the bite were real and she was losing her brother. Wave after wave of grief hit her at maximum force. She had never been alone before. As kids, Iggy and her were attached at the hip. Even after he went to college, she was his frequent visitor. After Iggy moved further away to be closer to Ella, she found Dylan, who quickly grew to support her. She had never been on her own. She had never had no one to rely on but herself. She had never _not _had Iggy. How was she, of all people, supposed to survive a zombie apocalypse on her own? She was thin and weak and didn't know how to fight. Her father had never let her learn, instead pushing Dylan at her.

Iggy let out a heavy sigh, seeing the internal panic clearly upon her face.

"Max, look at me," He croaked. She did as told without hesitation. "It doesn't matter if you're not hard enough yet, just that, if it comes down to it, don't listen to Parker. The world is changing and his idealism is going to get him and everyone around him killed. I may not be there to protect you, so you need to protect yourself and just focus on keeping yourself alive so that no one else an try to cut you down first."

"Iggy," Max breathed, beginning to come to her senses. "You're not going to die."

"But if I do," He spoke firmly, despite being barely able to move. "If I don't make it, listen to me, you need to _run_. Max, you need to run and never look back."

In the days and then weeks and then months that would pass, Max would think of a million things she could have said to him.

_"__I love you Iggy."_

_"__You were the best big brother I could have ever had."_

_"__I promise, Ig. I'm going to miss you so much."_

But no, instead Max pursed her lips, hardened her gaze, and cleared her throat before saying, "You're not going to die, Ig. Now go to sleep. I'll see you in the morning."

* * *

**Aj: So let's do a quick update with you guys since it's been a while. I had to break from writing last year to study for SAT and AP tests and finish off junior year. Now, I am a senior literally a month away from graduating high school (ew gross I'm old), went to Northern Ireland, finished college apps, then realized I needed to take a gap year so I will be going to Cambodia, Thailand, Vietnam, Peru, and Ecuador starting September. I'm not going to have internet (le gasp) the whole year so I'm going to try to finish this story by then. And then I'm going to be done with this site because I am still pissed off at James for absolutely trashing on the series and Max's character in "Forever" (seriously though, dumbest name ever.)**

**Let me know what you guys thought of this flashback. Next chapter, Fang and Max reunion. Directly after that, the action REALLY picks up.**

**Again, I am so so sorry for making you guys wait so long. You probably don't even remember this story. But if you are willing to forgive me, I promise it's going to be a good one. **

**Review and not only will I give you a cookie, but also an exclusive sneak peek at the next chapter ;)**

**-Aj. **


	5. Fight or Flight

**Aj: Thank you to everyone who reviewed and didn't yell at me. I didn't know if anyone would even look at this story after its little hiatus, but you guys are just plain awesome. **

* * *

"So Max," he spoke smugly from behind her. "Let's talk."

She immediately went rigid. The fear of death that had loomed over her moments ago now had returned full throttle. Had it ever really left?

"Fang," she forced a chipper grin upon her face as she turned back to face the boy who currently had her trapped in his grip, a satisfied smirk upon his face. "How are you? Oh, did you think, no, you see I didn't _leave_, I was just out to repay the favor and hunt some food for breakfast when…"

She let out a sigh, taking in his rolling eyes and the background snickering of the two bratty kids that had gotten her into this mess in the first place.

"Are you buying any of this or is there just no point in continuing?

"As interesting as it could be to hear how the hell you would talk yourself out of this, I'd rather not spend too long waiting for more lame brains to get a whiff of that blood."

Max's eyes lit up, nodding her head quickly in agreement.

"True. Wouldn't want that. If you would just let me go, we could both be on our merry way and long gone before the next herd shows up," she grunted with a sickeningly sweet smile, attempting to pull out of Fang's grip. Max frowned when he didn't release her.

"God, I wish we had some popcorn," muttered the blonde girl to her brother. He nodded enthusiastically.

"I miss popcorn. And burgers. And nachos and—"

The girl cut him off with a gentle elbow to his ribs, turning their attentions back to Max and Fang. Fang acted as if he wasn't aware of the commentary, instead keeping his gaze trained on Max.

"Where's my stuff, Max?"

She visibly flinched at the question, remembering the raw trust he had given her during their banter filled meeting and how she had betrayed him. She had stolen his stuff, only to have the stuff stolen from her by those damn geezers and set up in a trap that he had saved her from.

She was so screwed.

Her eyes scanned the forest floor, examine routes of escape she could make before the pads of his fingers pressed into the bare skin of her arm more firmly.

"Where is my stuff, Max?" He repeated, his eyes—dark and unwavering—connecting with her own. She swallowed roughly.

"Gone," she breathed out. "The old bastards that trapped me and left me for dead took everything."

Fang's grip on her loosened just a fraction. He let out a breath, his eyebrows bunching together in fury. Max swallowed, her eyes locking on the empty gun he gripped in his palm. She had seen firsthand what he could do with that gun, even without the bullets. Her death surely would not be a pretty one.

She waited, bracing herself for impact, but Fang made no movement against her. He only looked down, messy tendrils of hair obscuring his features. Finally, he looked up at her.

"What did they look like?"

Max blinked, not expecting a response devoid of rage. Instead, while he was nearly impossible to read, his eyes betrayed an emotion that mirrored Max's own. Fear.

"There were three of them. One woman, two men," she described lowly. "They…looked like old people. Wrinkles, grey hair, etc. I caught one guy's name—Charles. He was more on the short, stocky side. The girl, there wasn't much anything distinctive about her. She looked like the kind of grandma that bakes you pie and knits, but she was clearly the leader."

Max noticed the siblings looking to one another in confusion at Fang's insistence. The young girl with pure blonde curls pursed her lips before adding, "They kept mentioning someone named Liam. They kept saying things like 'remember what happened to Liam' and stuff. They stole _our_ group's supplies too. After that, well, we couldn't find our group."

Fang's expression tightened, seeming to visibly pale. Max raised an eyebrow at the reaction, but didn't get a chance to say anything before his gaze was once again on her.

"Sorry about this," he breathed, inches away from her face. "But I've got to make sure you don't run off again before we get a chance to catch up."

Before she could question him, she was spun around and there was a tight pressure around her wrists. Rope, she realized. Her heartbeat quickened instantly, realizing that she had escaped one trap only to end up in another one. At the moment, she wasn't sure which one was worse.

"We have to move quickly," Fang said to the three of them. "We have to get as far away from here as we can."

The siblings nodded enthusiastically, saluting him playfully. With a smirk, Fang leaned down to be level with Max's ear. His breath was warm on her neck as he whispered, "I told you I'd find you."

* * *

Hours later, they had set up camp and felt it safe to rest for the night. Still bound, Max was seated beside the warm glow of the campfire, glaring at the embers when she heard the familiar approaching footsteps of the current bane of her existence.

"You want something to eat?" He asked her. She kept her gaze on the fire, not daring to look at him.

"Who are we running from?"

She heard his breath still from above her. She smirked at the reaction, finally allowing herself to look up to see the brief flicker of surprise on his face.

"You know, Fang, I've realized that during our _party _the other night, you had no problem prying into the ghosts of my past, yet we didn't really go into _your_ dark past."

"Who says I've got one?" He challenged, lowering himself to sit across from her. She snorted, rolling her eyes.

"This is the _apocalypse_. Everyone's got one," she spoke matter of factly. "Besides, if you didn't, you wouldn't be so scared by whoever you think is coming after us. And, since you've so rudely involved me in your drama by tying me up, I have a right to know what it is we're running from."

He pursed his lips, taking in her biting retort silently.

"We're fine," he responded finally. "We're in no more danger than the normal amount."

Figuring she wasn't going to get anymore out of him than that, Max sighed impatiently.

"Fine, then answer a different question for me. Why'd you care so much to hunt down and save some random girl who stole from you?" The question had been nagging at her for quite some time. "Most survivors would have killed me, you know."

Instead of responding, Fang merely rose an eyebrow.

"Did you want me to?"

Max didn't respond. She kept her expression neutral, impassive as her time around so much death and gore had taught her how to.

"You reminded me of someone I used to know," he responded, breaking their silence. "That's why I came after you. I chose to save you, I chose not to kill you because that would be letting _them_ win. We may be in an apocalypse, but I'm going to survive by still being me and doing what's right. Otherwise, what's the point in surviving?"

Max's expression widened, startled by his answer and the honesty in his gaze that was locked on her own.

"Who was it?" She asked eventually, feeling almost embarrassed. At his look of confusion, she continued, "Who was it that you said I reminded you of?"

He chuckled lowly without humor before replying, "She didn't steal from me, if that's what you were wondering. Only you were ballsy enough to try that. Her name was Maya. Most human girl I had ever met, so much so that the apocalypse was harder on her. She thought she was too far gone."

He paused, looking up at Max with an intensity she found herself both drawn to and terrified by.

"But she wasn't," He concluded. Max bit her lip.

"What happened to her?"

He looked up at her, his expression darkening.

"What happens to everybody."

Max knew the pain enough to not ask anymore prying questions about the girl Fang had once known. She had her own individual graveyard of ghosts that haunted her. Everyone did.

"Why did you leave, Max?" He asked suddenly, interrupting the silence she had grown so accustomed to. She bit her lip, surprised at the familiar gnawing within her that she recognized as guilt. She didn't answer him, she couldn't. Mentally, she questioned, _Why did you want me to stay?_ but she didn't dare ask the question aloud. She wasn't sure if she wanted to hear the answer.

"Fine, then," he sighed and Max couldn't help but frown at hearing the disappointment in his voice. "Different question, then."

"Oh goody," she remarked dryly. He ignored her, instead running his palms absentmindedly along the smooth base if Mr. Pointy as he asked, "When did you realize that things would never get better? That there was no going back?"

Max clenched her jaw, looking up at him coldly. Sensing her hesitation, he held up her beloved stake. "Just answer the question and I'll cut you loose."

Max perked up at the offer, but still couldn't hold back her suspicion.

"Why is it so important to you?" She questioned instead.

He only rose an eyebrow. "Do you want to be cut free or not?"

Sighing, Max bit back the insults that rested on her lips and instead forced her emotions back as the memories forced their way to the surface and words began to tumble from her lips. "During the first group I ever stayed with. Some—some _idiot_ brought someone bitten into the camp. Lied about it, thinking they were protecting everyone, that the rumors were a hoax, and that they would be fine."

Max paused, leveling her gaze with Fang's.

"They turned overnight. Had a big ol' feast on the entire family that had so graciously let them stay, including three little girls. They couldn't have been older than ten. In the end, it wasn't the zombie to blame for their deaths. It was the girl who was too _weak_ to understand the reality of the new world that really killed them. She didn't deserve to be the one who lived."

Fang paused, taking in the story as the weight of it settled upon him. He looked at her in surprise.

"You still want to let me out of these restraints?" She spoke coldly, challenging him, wanting him to see what she really was. Why she couldn't have stayed with him. Because he was pure; good. She was a monster with a pulse that refused to quit. Fang walked toward her silently, so deadly silent that she wondered if she had finally pushed him far enough, but the stake didn't touch her. Instead, the pressure around her wrists went slack. The stake that she treasured impaled the earth by her feet, just as it had when she had first encountered Fang. She brought her hands forward slowly, Fang still kneeling down before her, as realization sunk in. She was free. She could leave. She had Mr. Pointy back. But—

"You don't have to go, Max," he spoke earnestly, surprising her. "You can stay. You may think that you're benefitting everyone by being alone, but you're not too far gone."

She shook her head slowly, backing away from him.

"You don't want me here, Fang. I'm not—I'm not you or Maya or whoever you want me to be so that you can prove that I'm still a _good person_ and earn your community service boy scout badge," she argued, bringing her arms up to her chest. Fang clenched his jaw, looking at her stonily.

"Fine, you don't want to stay, then fine. I can't force you to see what I can see," he ground out. "But…just stay for a little while. We were planning on sneaking into the city to get to the mall for new supplies. We'll need all the fighters we've got and we've already proven we make a good team. Plus, as the one who stole my supplies in the first place, you owe me."

"That's a suicide mission," Max hissed, pausing from her immediate urge to escape to instead argue. "The city is crawling with zombies. You won't make it five blocks, let alone _the mall_."

"I've done it before," he grinned back cockily. "Plus, that means other people haven't been able to get to it and there will be virtually unlooted supplies there. How far do you think you're going to get with only a stake and no cooking skills?"

Max bit her lip, remembering how scarce the berries had been getting lately. She _was_ running low on options. Yet, the sound of laughter from one of the tents caught her attention, drawing her back to reality.

"There's a reason you don't see kids anymore," she murmured, keeping her voice low so that only Fang could hear her. "They don't last. They're too weak, too loud. Just being around them is putting us in danger."

Fang scoffed, rolling his eyes. "Well, if that's the case, I sure am glad you'll be there to protect me."

At that, he turned his back on her and began to walk towards his tent. She stared openmouthed at his retreating form until rage took hold of her.

"I didn't say yes!" She called out to him stubbornly. He paused, looking back at her with a smug grin in place. "Max, I've seen you fall into a pit of hungry lame brains and somehow survive. I find it hard to believe that someone who is so good at surviving wouldn't be able to get out of a little rope. Trust me, you decided."

She paused, letting his words sink in. She clenched her jaw. Fang, noticing her reaction with amusement, continued, "Besides, you just can't resist the chance at spending more time with me."

She let out a snort. "In your dreams."

He gave her a once over, looking her up and down infuriatingly slow. "Oh trust me," he spoke with a smirk. "You will be."

Before Max could scream in protest, he added, "My offer from from before still stands. My tent is always open if you want to join me."

"_Goodnight_ asshole," she bit out, not even giving him the satisfaction of a retort.

"Sleep well," he returned, still grinning.

"We'll probably be dead by morning," they both finished.

With that, he disappeared behind the flap of his tent and Max stared at the dying glow of the fire, trying to decide between fight or flight, before venturing into her own tent.

Only, she wasn't alone.

Her grip on Mr. Pointy tightened in her hand as she stared at the huddled mass in the corner before raising her stake, flipping over the body, and—

"What the hell, Gazzy!" She shouted in a whisper at the young boy who had wandered into her tent. He stared up her with wide, vulnerable blue eyes. Sighing, Max dropped the stake and ran a hand through her hair.

"What are you doing in here?" She questioned, looking down at the small boy expectantly.

"I had a nightmare. I was wondering if you could help me get to sleep," he explained innocently.

Max frowned at the request. The boy was young, no older than eight with scrawny arms and wide, innocent eyes that didn't seem to fit in in the new world they lived in. He looked fast and he was small, so he would be harder to catch, but with his lack of strength, he would likely probably only last—

Max stopped herself. No, she wouldn't calculate his survival rate. Not this time. This time…

Max hesitated, looking down at the boy.

"Why me? I thought Fang was the nice one."

He wrinkled his nose in disgust.

"I've _heard_ the comments he's made to you about his tent. Personally, I'd rather _not_ be in there at night," Gazzy shuddered, looking thoroughly grossed out, before once again looking up at Max. "Doesn't he know you have cooties? Or worse, what if he already caught them? I can't take the risk!"

Max let out a laugh for the first time in…well, she didn't really know how long. With a small smile on her face, she lowered herself to the soft earth and grinned at the boy.

"You're a smart kid," she remarked. He beamed proudly at her.

"Can you tell me a story?" He asked.

She frowned, pursing her lips. "What, like Cinderella?"

He stuck his tongue out, making fake gagging noises. She rolled her eyes.

"Max, come on. Seriously. That's a _girl's_ story. I'm a _boy,_" he spoke, as if it should have been totally obvious.

Well then.

"Fine," she held her hands up in surrender, looking at him as an idea formed in her head. "How…how would you like to hear a story about the time my brother, Iggy, and I ended up convincing our entire school that he was blind just so the principal couldn't blame him for setting off stink bombs in the girls' bathroom?"

A wide, toothy grin appeared on the boy's face as he nodded quickly. Max smiled, subconsciously ruffling the boy's messy blond hair.

"Once upon a time, there was an idiot brother…"

And suddenly, Max's image of her brother changed. For so long, she could only see the version of him covered in blood, a hollow shell torn apart by the apocalypse. As she told the story, she remembered what he looked like before, she saw how Gazzy cackled in response, and her heart lifted. For the first time since that fateful night, she was allowed to remember her brother from before. She was allowed to remember _everything_ from before. In her mind, though it was silly, it felt like he was less _dead_ as he lived on through the story and her memories.

And, for the second time that night, Max smiled.

* * *

The next morning, when Max walked out of her tent, all eyes were on her.

"You stayed," Angel breathed in surprise, a grin on her young face. Max shrugged, finding herself uncomfortable under the stares of the group.

"Yeah, well, it's only temporary. Just until we get supplies, then I'm out."

Fang, whose gaze hadn't left hers, shot her a smug grin.

"We'll see."

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**Aj: So, this isn't exactly a filler (the way this story is outlined, there ****aren't any _real_ fillers.) but there's no zombie violence. That comes again next chapter. As well as the appearance of another flock member...**

**Again, thank you guys so much and let me know what you thought. **


	6. Enter Darkness

**Aj: Had to split this chapter up because it was way too long, so this one is pretty short, but the second part will be uploaded pretty quickly after. Lucky for you guys, the splitting up of chapters gives you a little more time before I tear out your hearts and stomp on them. But until then, enjoy the story!**

**Also, yay me, I graduated. **

* * *

As the group huddled by the tree line that served as a barrier between the protection of the forest and the no man's land of the city, Max felt more vulnerable than she cared to admit. Though slightly obscured, she could still make out large clusters of slowly shuffling bodies among the streets of the city within view. Subconsciously, Max gripped Mr. Pointy more tightly, allowing the cylindrical piece of wood to serve as her lifeline. The siblings were gazing at the large quantities of undead with wide, fearful eyes. Fang, on the other hand looked rather unperturbed by the sight. Max clenched her jaw, casting a sour look in the direction of the man who had gotten her into this mess in the first place.

"Alright Mr. _I've done it before_, I sure do hope you have a plan to get us through those zombies that I'm sure would be just delighted to tear into the throats of anyone dumb enough to try strolling past," Max muttered dryly.

"Relax, you'll be just good and dandy to carry on your fulfilling existence of a self pitying lonesome survivor in no time," he shot back with more malice in his tone than she had been anticipating. The kids blinked, backing away slightly in case things turned ugly. Fang ignored them, instead gesturing Max closer so that she could see where he was looking. At the bottom of the hill that separated them from the concrete jungle that lay ahead was a bronze circle. A sewer grate. Realization began to set in.

"Huh," she remarked. He smirked at her dumbfounded, yet slightly impressed expression.

"Wait, I don't get it," Angel hissed. "What are we supposed to be getting?"

"That," Fang pointed to the grate, "is an entrance into the sewer system. Instead of going right through the city and most likely getting chomped to death by our friendly neighborhood carnivores, we're going to go under the city. And, luckily for us, there's another of these suckers right by the mall's back entrance."

Max pursed her lips, scanning the area below. Only around five zombies were milling around by the grate, but there was no telling how many would pop up once they made their presence known.

"How easy is it to lift the lid? Aren't those things normally pretty heavy?" she asked Fang.

He nodded. "Yeah, normally. This one's pretty loose though, so with enough prying it comes up alright. We'll definitely need at least two people to help get it off," he responded. "On the plus side, heavy means that it'll be hard for them to come and follow us. And it'll mean that there likely won't be many down there."

"But what if there are?" Gazzy muttered, his skin pale.

Fang shrugged. "Well, considering we'd be shutting ourselves into closed quarters with a horde of bloodthirsty monsters, we die."

"Well golly, Fang," Max accentuated with a hand over her heart, "You really do know how to get a girl excited."

He turned to her with a sinful smirk and winked. "It's worked for me so far."

Max rolled her eyes, focusing on the zombies ahead. The five were nothing special. Typical vacant expressions, grotesque rotting and peeling skin, their shredded clothes covered in blood. Two were missing arms and one appeared to have a screwdriver impaled in its neck. Max wondered if the one that had put it there was now one of the zombies lurking below.

Max frowned, imagining herself being forced to rot and lurk alongside her murderer. The thought alone was enough to send an icy cold shiver up her spine. Judging by the amount the zombies had decomposed, she figured those below were some of the first unlucky bastards to die. Most likely they had been trying to get out of the city when shit hit the fan. They just never made it out.

"We're going to need to be ready," Max murmured to the group around her. "These guys are old and, since everyone knows that the city is a death wish, they're going to be _hungry_."

"So what do we do?" Gazzy asked, looking up at her with wide eyes. Max sighed, turning her gaze back on the scene below.

"Gazzy, you and I will go first and start thinning them out. Stay close to me in case something happens and one of us needs help. Fang, Angel, you two will trail behind us and work on the grate," Max replied.

"But there's only five of them," Angel said. "Couldn't we just all take them out together and then open the grate?"

Max looked at Angel grimly. "Just because you don't see them doesn't mean they're not there."

Angel paled, looking down, before nodding. Max shifted her gaze to Fang, who had been silent.

"Well, what do you think?" She questioned, suddenly feeling self conscious. If something went wrong, if someone got hurt, it would be on _her_.

"I'm ready when you are," He responded simply. She nodded and looked to Gazzy, who was looking down at the scene below and nervously rubbing his shoulder.

"Hey Gaz," He jumped in surprise at her voice and looked to her with wide blue eyes. "You're shorter than they are so I'm gonna let you in on a secret. If you kick the backs of their knees, they'll fall and then all you have to do is get them while they're down. Think you can do that?"

The boy nodded fiercely, putting on a tough expression that made Max smile. She turned away from the boy, let out a breath, and, after tightening her grip on Mr. Pointy, began the descent down the hill. Gazzy waited a moment before stumbling after her while Fang and Angel silently trailed behind the two of them. With every step, Max felt her chest tighten. The zombies hadn't noticed her yet, but they would. And once they did, others would follow.

Max had reached the bottom of the hill when behind her, a twig snapped. She heard a sharp intake of breath from Gazzy, but didn't look at him. Her attention was focused on the five zombies whose heads had swiveled and locked on the group. Max smirked, readying her stake, as they began to approach. A zombie with a frayed and bloodied trucker hat snarled at her, his one arm reaching for her her. Instinctively, Max swung out her foot, catching the back of the monster's leg and stepped out of the way as the still snarling zombie collapsed to the earth. Within a moment, Max stabbed downwards into the vulnerable skull of her attacker.

The bone collapsed on itself with ease, more so than what she was used to, and doused her palm with grotesque juices. She wrinkled her nose, but didn't focus on the sickly smell that she had never gotten used to. Instead, she turned on her foot to spot Gazzy, who had been watching her.

"Easy, huh?" She remarked, pointing a finger to the corpse at her feet. With a grin of confidence, the boy nodded profusely and tried the technique on his own approaching zombie. Satisfied, Max turned to face on another monster, who moved more slowly than others she had encountered. She kicked outwards, sending her foot into the zombie's chest. However, instead of the zombie being pushed backwards as she had intended, her foot went straight into the corpse's chest cavity. Max's eyes widened. Immediately the girl went to attempting to pull her leg out of the zombie, who had remained unaffected by her kick and grabbed at her leg.

Max breathed out sharply and, with both little time and options, swung her leg (and the zombie attached to it) into the trunk of a nearby tree. The impact was enough to free her leg and without wasting a second, she leapt to impale the beast in the skull.

Not a moment later there was rustling behind her. Instinctively, Max turned quickly on her feet and ducked the awaiting arms of a zombie that clawed at her. Her attacker turned just as she quickly punctured the zombie, directly parallel to the screwdriver still impaled in its neck. The corpse dropped quickly. Max turned to leave, but found herself pausing. The girl frowned, releasing a shaky, adrenaline filled breath before she stooped to collect the screwdriver from the monster's skull.

"You alright?" A voice called to her. Max spun, turning to see Fang's eyes on her from his crouched down position by the grate. His eyes were filled with concern as he scanned her for injuries, the foreign gesture immediately making Max feel out of her comfort zone. Before she could think more into the gesture, she shot him a quick nod.

"Gazzy are you—_oh shit!_"

A booming growl came from the highway as a large herd of zombies seemed to have grown aware of their presence.

"Fang, Angel, how close are we?" Max shouted, quickly rushing over to cut down the zombie keeping a shaking Gazzy busy with a quick jab. He gave her a grateful smile, but she ignored it, quickly scooping the small boy over to where Fang and Angel were.

"Almost…got it! Max, you go first. The kids will follow and I'll come from behind," Fang spoke, his voice strained. Max nodded quickly and dropped to the ground , prepared to scramble down the hole when Fang spoke once more. "Be careful."

"No time," She replied, before plunging into darkness.

She fell quickly, her only source of light coming from the grate's opening as she landed with a splash. Sewer water coated her and, despite being already coated in zombie guts, she couldn't help but cringe at the smell.

Two smaller splashes came shortly afterwards , followed by the larger splash as the others joined her.

"Ew," Angel scowled, immediately plugging her nose. "This place smells worse than Gazzy's farts.

The boy smirked back at her, though Max noticed it seemed to lack his usual vigor.

"Everyone okay?" Max asked, squinting at the others through the darkness. Her three companions nodded and, with a sigh of relief, Max turned to examine their surroundings.

"No zombies, no discarded dead bodies, no flushed alligator," Max checked off on her fingers. "I gotta say Fang, as much as I hate to admit it, this plan of yours doesn't completely suck."

"Always the tone of surprise," He muttered darkly, though Max could clearly see the satisfied smirk on his lips. She shrugged noncommittally before turning to the dark expanse before them.

"If we can't see anything, how are we supposed to know if there are any dead things?" Angel asked quietly, looking at the darkness nervously.

"Well I imagine we'll know when they start ripping into our flesh," Gazzy stated, going slack jawed and dead eyed at Angel and groaning as he mimicked a zombie coming to attack her. Immediately the small girl smacked him upside the head. He let out a squeak, rubbing the back of his head while Angel crossed her arms, glaring at him with more ferocity than either Max or Fang would have expected.

"That's not funny, Gazzy," She snapped. Gazzy's shoulders sank, the boy resembling a kicked puppy.

"Hey, both of you, knock it off," Max growled, running a hand through her hair in frustration. "Fang, now would be a good time to jump in with how we're supposed to make it through this tunnel stumbling around like a couple of blind mice."

He nodded, pulling out a small lighter from his back pocket and ducking down to pick up a lantern resting by the ladder they had come in from.

"Like I said," Fang murmured as he lit the lantern, illuminating the group with light. "I've done this before."

Max nodded, ignoring Fang's knowing smirk while trying to conceal her own approval.

"Alright Superman, lead the way."

The four spent the majority of their trek in silence, freezing at the scurrying of every rat and any other sound in the tunnels. Fang was in the lead, guiding their way with their only source of light and his seemingly unending knowledge of the underground sewer system. Jazzy and Angel had been quick to latch onto Max, for reasons that were entirely unknown to her, and at every slight noise they came across, the two immediately stepped nearer to her. Seeing as Max had spent the majority of the apocalypse on her own, she had no clue how to react to the sudden display of affection.

To their left, the sound of shuffling water reverberated across the tunnels. Immediately, the siblings clutched onto Max, earning an eye roll from the girl.

"I thought I was the mean one," she groaned. "Why aren't you clinging onto that dweeb?"

Fang paused from his navigating to turn back and smirk at her. She promptly responded by sticking her tongue at him as Angel matter of factly responded, "Easy. We like you."

Plus, you're a total badass. If anything comes to try to eat us, our chances are way better around you," Gazzy added enthusiastically.

Fang's amused grin dropped. He shot a playful glare to the two.

"Traitors," he hissed.

Max let out a laugh before freezing up entirely. She pushed the kids behind her immediately, reaching for her stake as she screamed, "Fang, behind you!"

Before he could turn around, a zombie had grabbed him, dragging him into the water behind them.

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**Aj: In theory, I could have totally chosen any other place to end this chapter. But I am mean, so I had to include one of my infamous cliff hangers. It's a sickness. A beautiful sickness. Since this is only half of the chapter, review for a sneak peek of the next chapter (and also just because you like me). **

**Until then, be prepared. Shit's about to hit the fan in this story. It's going to be really fun. **

**-Aj. **


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